Falling In Between
by scribblingnellie
Summary: With their friend's return from the dead, Greg Lestrade finds Molly Hooper is back in his life. Which he likes, though he's not sure he should like it as much as he does. Angst and romance for my favourite Inspector. And indulging my curiosity about what happened between drinks at Baker St and the wedding. Many thanks for reading.
1. ponder

'Seriously, Tom, it can't wait till I get home?...'

The edge in her voice made Greg pause. With her back to him, he could see the tense set of her shoulders, her fingers tapping agitatedly on the table. Standing in the doorway of the lab, he knocked. Jumping slightly, Molly spun round. Her face looked like thunder. He couldn't ever remember seeing her angry. Surprised, he took a little step backward, holding his hand up in apology. But she waved him in, her mobile still to her ear.

'Yes, yes, I know we need to pick a venue...and set a date...yes, Tom. But not right now. I'm busy... ok, yes... see you tonight then... Bye.' She jabbed angrily at her phone. 'Argh!' Slamming it down on the table, she plonked herself down onto the lab stool.

'Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt.' Greg took a few hesitant steps towards the table. 'I can go.. if it's not a good time?'

'No, no..' Shaking her head, her face softened. '..it's ok.'

Giving him an exhausted half-smile as he leaned against the side of the table, Molly let her chin drop into her hands.

'You look like you need coffee.' Tilting his head, Greg smiled back, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. 'Did you want to pop out and get some. I mean, only if you want to..'

Molly turned her face up to him and he couldn't help grinning as she nodded. 'Make it a hot chocolate and I'd love to.'

* * *

><p>The cold, fresh December air had turned her cheeks a subtle pink. And the hot chocolate had brought back her gorgeous smile.<p>

The small coffee shop was filling up around them. Having nabbed a little table in a corner, they were sat opposite each other, Greg's coffee and Molly's hot chocolate between them. Without thinking, he reached across the table, letting his hand rest on her arm.

'Better?'

Molly nodded. 'Better. Thank you for this. It's really kind of you.'

'Any time.' Taking his hand away, Greg couldn't help watching her. With her hands wrapped around the large mug, she was taking long, slow sips with relish. It was good to see. 'Listen, I really just came by the lab to say sorry.'

Looking over the mug at him, she raised her eyebrows. And Greg found himself caught in her curious brown eyes. That surprised him.

'..for, um, you know, not keeping in touch properly, while Sherlock was.. gone.'

After the funeral, they hadn't really seen much of each other; it'd been too raw, even as the months went on. And as the months turned into a year, it just sort of fell into a pattern - an occasional visit to the morgue, a call, a text now and then.

'Oh, no, Greg, please don't be. That was my fault.' Molly placed her mug down in the table and let her hand rest on his.

Feeling the gentle warmth of her fingers against his skin, he stared down at their hands. It was nice. Her hand on his felt rather nice.

'It's not your fault..'

'Yes, it is. I couldn't face you or John or Mrs Hudson. You were in pain and I couldn't stop it. So I kept back. And I know that was wrong.'

'But what you did, that was extraordinary. No, really..' Taking his hand from under hers, he wrapped his fingers around hers as she shook her head. 'Strong, brave, tough Molly Hooper. You helped him and then kept it secret for so long.'

'And now you know. To be honest, I'm relieved that you know. I was terrified of what you'd all think of me, after you'd found out.'

'I think you're incredible.'

Molly blushed. The colour rose quickly in her cheeks and Greg couldn't help smiling. He'd said it and he'd meant it. She was incredible. Their eyes met again and he felt a jolt rush through him.

Oh.

Well, that'd snuck up on him. Molly Hooper was really quite beautiful. Shy, gentle smile; deep, inquisitive eyes. Releasing her hand, Greg found himself absorbed with his mug. Sitting in the crowded, noisy coffee shop, it hit him. He liked her. He was fascinated by her. Captivated. Remembering the sight of her in the cellar, earnestly making notes; her lovely smile over her champagne glass at Sherlock's. This was not something he should be feeling. What was going on?

'So, um, anyway, tell me about Tom...' said Greg, quickly steering their conversation in the other direction.

* * *

><p>Bundled up against the cold afternoon, Molly had accepted Greg's offer to walk her back to the hospital. Just as they left Smithfields, he felt her arm slipping through his, their sides bumping and brushing as they walked. It was nice, having her so close. Even through their coats, he could feel the pressure of her arm against his. He liked it. And he knew he shouldn't.<p>

Rounding the last corner, the gate into Barts just ahead of them, Greg felt an icy sharpness brushing against the side of his head.

'Oh, it's snowing!' exclaimed Molly beside him.

As he turned his head to look at her, she closed her eyes, letting the tiny, cold flakes fall onto her upturned face. How beautiful and happy she looked standing there on the pavement, head tipped back, the first snowflakes of winter fluttering down. His heart jumped when she caught him looking.

'Sorry.' Molly let her head drop back down, giving Greg an embarrassed smile. 'I just love snow. Ever since I was a kid.'

'Nothin' wrong with that.'

He was doing it again - staring at her. No. Stop it.

Taking his hands from his pockets, he rubbed them together, trying to get them warm again. 'Better be getting you back in then or they'll be wondering what's happened to you.'

'True, true.' Hesitating, Molly drew her arm from his, pulling her coat tighter around her. But she didn't go inside.

Which was fine by Greg. Despite the cold and his fingers going numb (next time he'd double check he had his gloves before rushing off) he was quite happy to stand outside, just to be next to her.

Seriously, stop it. When had he started to think about Molly like this? Not that he didn't like having her there in his thoughts. But it wasn't right. She was engaged. He was older. They were just friends.

Friends.

Greg cleared his throat, running his hand across the back of his neck. 'Well, if I don't see you before then, Merry Christmas, Molly.'

She looked up at him, a smile playing across her lips. Such beautiful brown eyes. 'Merry Christmas to you too. Spending it with someone special?'

'Staying with my brother and his family.' Shaking his head, he scuffed his shoe against the pavement. 'There's, um, no one special.'

And there hadn't been, not in the two years since the divorce. There'd been dates and one very short relationship that'd petered out. What sort of relationship could he have around his job? His divorce had taught him that, the painful way.

'Work seems to have taken over at the moment.' Smiling ruefully, he looked back at Molly. 'Somehow, I can't see someone being happy to play second best to my job.'

'I'm sorry. Tom's not so keen on my work either. After he went rather green the first time I told him about autopsies, we don't really discuss it.'

'Shame. Job like yours, you need to talk about it, to unwind from it.'

'And yours too. '

'Well, if you ever want to talk, I don't mind listening.'

'Really?'

'Of course.'

And he meant it. He understood what dark places her job could take her to; he'd been there, went there most days. Usually he'd talk about it over a pint with Donovan or Dimmock.

Molly paused, her eyes focused on the pavement. 'Thank you.' And then the feel of her fingertips against his hand. 'Better get back. You going to New Year's Eve, at John and Mary's?'

He nodded. He wasn't much of a New Year's Eve person, but he'd been persuaded when John told him that Molly would be there.

'Me too. Have a lovely Christmas, Greg.'

Her eyes caught his. A smile and she was gone, back inside. Greg wasn't sure how long he stood there on the pavement afterwards, thinking of that smile. Long enough for his fingers to turn blue.

* * *

><p><strong>And Falling is back! I had a long think about the story and decided to modify the timescale a bit. I'm curious about what happened between Greg and Molly in the time between the celebration drinks at Sherlock's, where she introduced Tom, and the wedding. All we have is one small scene in the lab and the Waters' family case. What happened between them in those months? What led Greg to being so close to Molly at the wedding (he definitely has his arm around her chair at one point!). Questions. questions! Many thanks for reading.<strong>


	2. procrastinate

The box sat there in front of him, the green silk ribbon tied in a neat bow on top.

Reaching his hand out, Greg let his fingers run over it. He'd done it on impulse. While trying to find the right gift for his sister in law, he'd got distracted. The silver bird caught his eye and he'd instantly thought of Molly. He thought of how beautiful it would look around her neck, resting against her chest. Before he could tell himself he shouldn't be buying an engaged woman jewellery, he handed over his credit card and the assistant handed him the pretty wrapped box.

So, now what? Sat at his kitchen table, he turned the box round. Seriously, did you buy an engaged woman jewellery? If they were a good friend, was that okay? And who could he ask anyway. Sally? His sister in law? Mrs Hudson? Not without a whole load of questions he didn't want to answer. And how would it look, giving her the gift? Would Molly be embarrassed? Maybe there was a way of leaving it for her to find. How would he get to her anyway, without it being obvious? Maybe he wouldn't.

Swiping the box from the table, Greg popped it into his coat pocket. But why not? It was a gift for a friend. And there was nothing wrong with that. Probably.

* * *

><p><em>To Molly...<em> No, not personal enough..._ Dear Molly_...

'Sir?'

Startled, Greg dropped his pen, hearing it clatter onto the desk and then hit the floor. Glancing up as he bent to retrieve it, he saw Donovan leaning against the door frame, a questioning look on her face.

'You ok?'

Hurriedly shoving the small green gift card back into the desk drawer, Greg looked up at her. 'Yes. Fine. Don't go sneaking up on people like that.'

His DS snorted. 'I hardly snuck up; you were miles away. Something on your mind?'

Why was she there? Oh shit... Greg noticed the time on the wall clock.

'Bugger, bugger..'

Press conference in five minutes and he hadn't got his notes sorted for it. He really had to get his mind together and try to concentrate. Scrabbling around in his tray, Greg tried to find the case file and press papers the PR department had given him.

'Ah...' Donovan held up a file. '...all in here, sir. You asked me to organise it for you this morning.'

'Did I?' He must have. He couldn't remember. Oh god, he really wasn't with it.

'Yes.' Stepping into the office, his sergeant closed the door behind her. 'Greg, seriously, is everything all right?'

Looking up, he saw her eyes soften, her head tilt. Once before he'd confided in his DS, though she had refused to leave his office until he'd told her about his divorce and the mess it had descended into.

Pausing, he ran a hand over his face. 'It's complicated.' He leaned back against the desk.

'Your love life usually is.'

Snapping his head up, Greg stared at her. 'That obvious, huh?'

'Yep.' Donovan stepped over and leaned against the desk next to him. 'Would it help to talk about it?'

Probably not. Because there was nothing he could do about it; apart from forget any even slightly romantic thoughts he had about Molly. He knew he should. But that feeling, and the jump his heart gave when he saw her or thought about her, was not easy to ignore.

'I like her but she's with someone else. I can't tell her, it wouldn't be right.'

'Oh.' She handed him the file. 'Maybe you just need to wait and see.'

'Maybe.'

Wait and see. How long should he wait? Was what he felt for Molly that serious? Was he falling for her?

'LESTRADE!' They both jumped at the sound of the Chief Super's voice booming across the outside office. 'Where the bloody hell are you? Press conference. NOW.'

Exchanging sheepish looks, Greg opened the door, letting Donovan out in front of him. They quickly strode across the office, heading for their rather pissed-off-looking senior officer. As they turned into the corridor, letting the Chief Super stalk along ahead of them, Greg felt her hand on his shoulder.

'Let her know she's got a secret admirer. Get Molly intrigued and see what happens.'

Maybe. If he didn't sign the gift card... what?

'How did you know?'

'I had a hunch. But..' She gave him a shove and they hurried to catch up with the Chief Super. '..I promise I won't breathe a word. I like her.'

'Thanks, Sally.'

He might do it. Possibly.

* * *

><p>He could feel the box in his pocket. Even though it was small, Greg could still feel it through his coat, tapping gently against his side as he walked along the stark white corridor. This was it. Reaching the morgue, he pushed the door open. No Molly. Her office? Walking across to the far side, he knocked gently on her door.<p>

'Come in!'

Opening it just enough to poke his head round, Greg hesitated. She smiled brightly when she saw him. The smile that made his heart turn over.

Ok, breathe.

'Hi Greg!' She motioned for him to come further in. 'What brings you here?'

'Sorry to bother you. I needed to see the Finch body again, if you've got a minute?' Taking a few steps into the office, he stopped by her desk.

'Of course.' Getting up, Molly let her hand briefly touch his arm. 'Let me just go find where I've put him.'

Pausing as she reached the door, she looked over her shoulder, her beautiful eyes meeting his. 'It's good to see you.'

'You too, Molly.' And it was, definitely.

Smiling, she left her office to locate the right drawer. Greg hesitated. With his heart beating a bit fast, he stuck his hand into his coat pocket, letting his fingers curl around the box. Gently lifting it out, he held it in front of him.

This really was it. A few seconds and he'd have to follow her. Before he could change his mind, he quickly placed the box, gift tag slipped under the bow, into her tray. It was just a gesture, he'd told himself several times as he'd driven his way across London to Barts. Just a gesture that didn't have any expectations attached it to.

Turning, he walked out into the morgue, over to where Molly was checking the body she'd just rolled out of storage. Joining her, Greg gave her a small smile.

'Thanks. Appreciate you doing this.' He leaned further over, examining the bruising on the arms and shoulders. 'Just wanted to double check a couple of things.'

Smiling back, Molly let her hand rest by his on the drawer. 'Not a problem. Anything for my favourite Inspector from Scotland Yard. You onto something with the case?'

And with her smile, her eyes looking into his, Greg again found his heart beating just that little quicker. They were friends, he told himself, looking back down to the body. Just friends.

But he couldn't make his heart believe that. Feeling her right there beside him, his body very aware of her, his fingers wanting to reach over and cover hers, Greg knew he couldn't make his heart or his mind believe it. He was falling for Molly Hooper. And he was too late.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Molly,<em>

_Thank you for everything you did._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Greg_

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for the follows! Written at the same time as Chapter 1, I wanted to get down an image I had of Greg trying to make sense of his feelings while being unable to stop thinking about Molly - did he, didn't he? I've taken inspiration for the chapter titles from a set of creative prompts for July, which you can find on my Pinterest board! I've also created a board with a bit of story inspiration - follow the link in my profile if you fancy a look. Many thanks for reading!<strong>


	3. (merry christmas)

_Thank you. It's so beautiful. M_

_You're welcome. I saw it and thought of you. G_

_You shouldn't have. M_

_I wanted to. You saved him, and us. G_

_I was so worried that you'd hate me for it. M_

_Never, Molly. You were strong and brave and quite brilliant. G_

_I didn't feel brave, more like terrified. M_

_So sorry I wasn't there for you. G_

_It's ok. Keeping my distance was just my way of dealing with it. M_

_Next time, I promise. You won't do it alone again. G_

The pounding footsteps up the stairs broke the quiet. Loud excited shouts were getting closer.

_Thank you. I'd say let's hope there's not a next time but this is Sherlock. M_

'Uncle Greg! Uncle Greg!' The bedroom door suddenly burst open, thudding against the wall and his seven year old niece threw herself at him.

Dropping his phone, he grabbed her round the waist, picking her up off the floor as she squealed. 'Ha! What do we have here?' Lifting her up, Greg turned Megan upside down, making her shake with giggles.

'No! Put me down!'

Spinning her back the right way up, he dropped her feet back on the floor. Recovering super quick, she grabbed his hand as he grabbed his phone, stuffing it into his pocket. Looks like he'd have to text Molly back later.

'Come on, Uncle Greg! Dad says it's time for Christmas Jenga.' Hauling him out towards the stairs. 'You're on my team 'cause you're so brilliant at it. Come on!'

* * *

><p>Three rounds and the winner's extra helping of Christmas pudding and custard later, Greg let himself out of the kitchen door, out into the cold night air. Megan had agreed to let him have a break - <em>'But only ten minutes because we have to play Monopoly next and you know Daddy always cheats at that so I need you!' <em>

Retrieving his phone from his jeans pocket, he sat down on the low stone wall of the garden.

_Sorry, got hauled away for Jenga. Hope you're having a nice Christmas. G_

He didn't really want to think about Molly and Tom sharing Christmas together. But he had to, because he had to accept it. And because he didn't want to stop thinking about Molly. Leaning back, Greg let his head drop back, staring up into the clear night sky. Thinking of how she could be looking up at exactly the same view as him, two hundred miles away. Small world.

_Oh, I love Jenga. We're sitting down to the Queen's Speech. Wake me up at the end of it, would you? M_

Greg smiled, and then shook the picture of him and Molly playing a game of Jenga, here with his niece and brother and sister in law, out of his head. That was not going to happen.

_Keep thinking of New Year's Eve. G._

_I am. Can't wait. M_

And neither could he. Greg wanted to see her again, somewhere familiar, amongst friends. A chance to spend some time with them, with her. And to put his promise to himself into practice - whatever he felt for Molly that went beyond friendship he had to lock away. He wanted them to stay friends and there was only one way to do that.

_Sorry that Tom can't make it. G_

_He was already committed to his work do. Anyway, I'll have you guys to see in the New Year with. Perfect. M_

'Greg?' His brother's voice floated out from the open kitchen door. 'You fancy a drink?'

_Got to go, Monopoly next. See you New Year's Eve. Take care. G_

The footsteps drew closer and Greg felt his brother plonk himself down next to him. 'Coffee or whisky?

'Whisky, definitely. Thanks, Chris.'

Nodding at the mobile in Greg's hand. 'How is she?'

'Fine. I think.'

'So, you're not going to say anything?'

'No.'

Having turned their conversation over in his mind for most of Christmas Eve, Greg knew that he couldn't follow his brother's advice. To him it wouldn't be right to tell Molly how he felt, to put her in that position.

'Fair enough, mate.' Getting up, his brother kicked at Greg's trainer. 'Come on, I'll get you that drink.'

* * *

><p><strong>Just a quick little snippet. This scene came to me as I worked on the next chapter. It didn't quite fit in with rest of it but I liked it so much that I made it a small chapter of its own. And I love the idea of Greg being an expert Jenga player! Many thanks for reading.<strong>


	4. taking care

'Happy New Year, Greg.'

The sound of the fireworks almost drowned out her words. But the soft, gentle kiss on his cheek, that he did not miss. Leaning against him, as the brilliant and very loud display went off overhead, he thought his heart couldn't actually go any faster. Her arm tucked around his, her head rested on his shoulder. Every sense filled with her - the smell of sparklers clinging to her coat, the pressure of her hand on his arm, her quiet gasps of surprise as each firework tried to outdo the last one.

'Happy New Year, Molly.'

Turning his head, he placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. Her skin felt cool against his lips. Everything in him just wanted to put his arm around her waist and pull her into him, to feel her pink-cold cheek beneath his hand and just stare into those beautiful eyes. Closing his eyes, Greg breathed in slowly, before pulling back. Looking down, he saw the light from the fireworks reflect off the small silver bird. His heart had skipped a couple of beats when she'd arrived and he saw she was wearing it. Her eyes had found his as she'd walked into the front room, her hand touching the necklace. A silent thank you.

Catching him staring, Molly smiled brightly as she held his eyes. A thrill ran along his spine, and he shivered. More explosions sounded overhead. Molly tilted her head slightly, letting her hair fall across his arm; even in the darkness he could see her looking at him curiously.

'Brilliant, isn't it!' He bent towards her and spoke into her ear over the noise. Feeling her skin, her hair so close he could kiss it. He didn't.

Molly nodded. But her reply was lost beneath the final blast of several fireworks going off at once. Ducking her head, she laughed, pulling her arm from around his to cover her ears. The moment was broken. Probably just as well.

* * *

><p>'Thank you for the lift.'<p>

Reaching down to unclip her seatbelt, Molly paused as it slid back into the holder, her fingers resting on her bag.

'Molly? You ok?'

'Hmm?' She looked over at him, her face studious, thoughtful. 'Oh, sorry. I was just..'

Greg turned in his seat, his hand still resting on the steering wheel, to look at her. She sounded anxious. There was definitely something on her mind. During the whole drive from John and Mary's to her's, she'd only spoken a few words, spending most of the time staring out the car window.

She'd been quite happy and animated at the party. Joining in with the gossiping and drinking and wedding planning. Challenging Sherlock to a game of Scrabble, which he declared a draw before the end, though they all knew Molly was resoundingly beating him. Hugging and kissing everyone at midnight. And standing with him, holding onto him as they watched the local fireworks from John and Mary's garden.

'Thinking?'

'Yes.' Molly nodded, resting her elbow against the window, her hand to her lips. 'Greg?'

'Yeah?'

'Can I ask you something?'

'Of course.'

Taking a breath, Molly turned her head slowly, avoiding his eyes. 'Did you ever, you know, before your wedding, did you have...' Shaking her head, she dropped her hands back on her bag, fiddling with the strap. 'Sorry, no, it's ok.'

'Molly, it's not ok. Something's bothering you.'

She paused. 'I had a lovely time tonight. I really did. It was fun, everyone was having a good time and being themselves and happy and you were really nice and I...'

Greg reached over to cover her hands with his, steadying the nervous motion of her fingers. She looked at them and then moved a hand out from under his, letting it rest on top. Warm and soft. He squeezed her hand in encouragement.

'I didn't get that feeling at Christmas, with Tom and with his family. And it just got me thinking... am I doing the right thing?'

Oh. She was having doubts? Greg forced away the light feeling in his stomach. No. Not the time or place to think of his own feelings.

'You having second thoughts?'

'Well, no, yes... I don't know. Am I? Or am I making something out of nothing. I mean, everyone's different and it was my first Christmas with his family so I was a bit nervous.. and I'm rambling, I'm so sorry, Greg.'

And he could see the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Oh, Molly. His heart ached at the sight of her upset.

'Hey.' Taking his hand from hers, he rested it on her shoulder. 'Nothing wrong with that. Honest.'

'It just made me think, tonight, maybe I'm not doing the right thing.'

'Like you said, you were nervous about Christmas, that's quite ok. And you know all of us.'

'True.' Giving him a half smile, she wiped at the corners of her eyes. 'Did you have second thoughts? About getting married?'

Had he? Greg remembered feeling nervous as hell, his ex-wife had planned the wedding to the exact detail and he felt a bit worried about stuffing it up. He hadn't doubted that he was doing what he wanted. But that had been then, when they loved each other and without the experience of their last year together.

'I was nervous, yes. But we were in love, it felt right.'

Hindsight was a wonderful thing, but he couldn't honestly say that he wished he'd had second thoughts at the time. Most of their marriage had been good, happy. It just hadn't lasted.

'I'm sorry, about what happened with you two.' Molly covered his hand on her shoulder with hers. 'You seemed so quiet about it, like you didn't want to talk about it so I didn't want to push you... and then everything else happened, you know with Sherlock and I got a bit wrapped up with stuff and... sorry, I don't know why I'm going on like this...

Rubbing his thumb against her shoulder, he withdrew his hand. 'Hey, it's ok. I was so angry, so hurt and I just wanted the divorce over with, you know. And then just to get on with my life. Sort of worked for a while.'

Those dark few weeks. The divorce, the jump, the funeral, his fury with Donovan. Running a hand over his eyes, Greg felt that pain knot at his stomach again. The inquiry and then his sergeant asking for a transfer. That'd hurt. One long argument later and Sally withdrew her request; she'd believed he would never forgive her for her doubts or trust her again and Greg had told her she'd been doing her job and he would always have her back. At least he'd been able to sort one thing out in his mess of a life.

'You're ok now? I mean, as ok as you can be.' Molly's voice cut into his thoughts, pushing away the darkness and the pain.

He smiled over at her. 'I'm ok. The shock of Sherlock not being dead is wearing off. You? I know you liked him and all that.. he's always had shit timing.'

She was silent. Was that what was worrying her and giving her doubts? She'd told him she'd moved on. Greg wondered if maybe Molly was realising that she hadn't.

'No, no.. it's not that.' Molly shook her head. 'I don't think.'

Maybe she was still in love with Sherlock. That might explain her doubts. Though it was certainly one hell of a spanner to throw into the works, for all of them.

'Oh, I'm so sorry, listen to me rambling on.' Waving her hand as though to brush away the dark thoughts, her voice snapped back into its usual cheerful tone. 'I can get a bit deep and philosophical in the early hours.'

She shivered, pulling her coat closer around her. And Greg suddenly realised how cold it was inside the car.

'Oh, Molly, you must be freezing. Better get you inside. Come on.'

Greg let himself out and walked around to her side. Opening the passenger door, he took her hand as she stepped out of his car. Her fingers felt cold in his. Shutting the door, he rubbed her delicate hand between his.

'Sorry about that. I didn't even notice it getting colder in there. Your hands are too cold.'

Clasping his hand gently, she then withdrew hers. 'I'm fine. Just need a nice mug of hot chocolate and my bed and I'll soon warm up.'

The picture of Molly in bed jumped into his mind. Glad for the single, weak streetlight so she couldn't see the blush forming on his cheeks, Greg followed her up the path to her building.

'Oh, I know it's in here somewhere.' Muttering to herself as she rummaged around inside her bag. 'There it is.'

As she unlocked the door, Molly turned back to him, smiling. 'Thank you for the lift and for listening and for being a good friend.'

'Any time.' Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. 'If you need to talk, you know where I am. And it may just be you were nervous about spending Christmas with Tom's family.'

'I know, it probably is that.' She paused in the doorway. 'A good night's sleep and I'll be fine. Thank you, truly. You are rather wonderful, Greg.'

Another beautiful smile and she reached up to kiss his cheek. Greg closed his eyes briefly, the feel of her lips on his skin making his heart stumble over several beats. He wasn't sure he could ever get that under control.

'Night, Molly. Take care.'

'You too.'

* * *

><p><strong>Greg's managing to keep his feelings to himself as him and Molly become close friends. Hang in there, Greg! Many thanks for reading.<strong>


	5. discretion

Greg couldn't stop himself looking over at it. It was sitting there next to him, in the silver bowl. Wobbling. Seriously, a brain, there in a bowl. Weird.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the scans in front of him. He could usually work out the medical stuff himself, having been doing the job for more years than he wanted to think about. But sometimes it went a bit beyond his policeman's knowledge. And that's where Molly came in. Any excuse to spend time with her, to listen to her voice, sit next to her in the lab, coffees between them as she went through it with him.

Well, so long as she moved the brain along a bit so it was out of his eye line.

'How you getting on?'

Molly let the lab door swing shut behind her. Greg looked up from the scans and smiled.

'Absolutely useless.'

Her soft laugh tugged at his heart. Clearing a space beside him, she sat down on the empty stool and took the sheets from him. Greg watched her as she spread them out in front of her, her slender fingers tracing across each one, making some sense of order.

'So, starting with this one, you can see the darker areas here indicate the damage caused by the knife entry...'

Looking at her as she started to explain, he found himself staring at her lips. As she moved her finger along to the next sheet, she stopped. Her eyes flicked up, like something had suddenly occurred to her.

'Molly, what is it?'

'You're sure it'll be ok if John asks Sherlock to be best man?' Turning to him, she chewed on her lip.

And Greg found it rather sexy. Ok, stop right there. Taking his glasses off, he folded them, placing them on top of the scans. Friends, remember.

'Yes, I'm sure. If it's important for John, then Sherlock will manage.'

Molly didn't seem convinced. 'Hmm. Maybe I'll give Mrs Hudson a call, just to check.'

'Maybe when you've finished with me..' And he realised how that sounded. Embarrassing. Greg cleared his throat, fiddling with his glasses. '..I mean, when you've finished explaining these to me, that is.. sorry.'

Laughing, Molly placed her hand on his. 'I know what you meant.'

As they bent their heads back down to work, he could see her from the corner of his eye, still grinning at him. Which Greg found rather gorgeous.

* * *

><p>'No, no, no.. not a cravat!'<p>

'No?'

'No, good grief. A tie with a morning suit, never a cravat.'

'Right, ok, I'll take your word for it.'

'Actually, this material's all wrong. Let me just have a word with the manager again.'

'Sherlock!'

As John shook his head, letting out his customary exasperated sigh, Greg patted the empty space on the sofa. Closing his eyes, the doctor flopped down next to him, letting his head drop backwards.

It was late - must have been getting on for closing time - and the three of them were no closer to choosing suits for John and Sherlock. They were the only customers in the shop; Greg was pretty sure that had something to do with Sherlock glaring and muttering.

'Has he been like this since you asked him?'

Greg leaned forward a little to catch a glimpse of their friend looking (though it was again more like glaring) at the harassed manager.

'Yeah. He has.' John sounded worn out.

'Well, I guess he's keen to make sure everything's just right. You know how he is.'

This raised a chuckle from John, who tipped his head forward. 'True.'

'Or it could just be his bossy, pain-in-the-arse side showing through.'

Shaking his head at the sight of Sherlock rejecting several ties by throwing them over his shoulder, Greg checked his watch - 6.15. He remembered the pub they'd passed on the way from the last shop to this one; he could murder a pint right about then. Five suit shops in one afternoon and nothing to show for it. He had planned to spend the afternoon with his bottles of Bombardier and the match on Sky, but something in John's voice over the phone made him agree to meet them.

Leaning back against the sofa, still thinking about that pint, he saw John turn to face him, his eyes serious.

'So, you bringing someone as your plus one?' Trying to make it sound casual. Greg knew it wasn't. 'If you don't mind me asking.'

Ah, last week's blind date. He still hadn't said anything to John about it.

'No-one, at the moment.'

'Oh. So, it didn't work out then, with you and Angela?'

She was a colleague of John and Mary's from the surgery. Greg had agreed only because it would stop them wondering about his private life. Not that he minded them knowing, but these days he preferred to keep it to himself, if he could.

Anyway. They'd gone for dinner in a little Greek restaurant round the corner from his place. It'd been nice. They'd talked about their jobs, what they liked doing at the weekend - the two things he was crap at talking about. Couple of drinks at the pub afterwards and he'd walked her back to her car. That was it. She was really nice - intelligent, chatty, nice smile. And for most of the evening he hadn't thought of Molly; it would've been rude to Angela to do it. But when she leaned into him, her lips brushing his cheek , catching the corner of his mouth, Greg couldn't stop the thought of Molly appearing in his mind - the feel of her hair brushing against his face, her arm though his, her lips on his cheek.

'It was good. She's nice. It just, um, didn't work out.'

'Oh, sorry to hear that. Greg, listen...' John turned and snatched a look over at his best friend. Turning back, he shifted his body to block Sherlock's view of them. '...I didn't want to ask before but, New Year's Eve. Did something happen?'

They'd noticed. Greg had wondered, as him and Molly left, whether any of their friends had seen them together during the fireworks.

'I mean, not that it's any of my business, but, I thought.. well, me and Mary thought, you two seemed close, you know?'

Damn it.

So he wasn't as good at concealing his feelings as he thought. Greg knew John wouldn't say anything to Molly, but he had hoped this wouldn't happen, for her sake. It was enough that his brother knew, that Sally knew. He should've realised that John and Mary would figure it out. Too late to tell himself to be more guarded.

'Nothing happened. We're friends.'

Greg couldn't tell him; it felt wrong to put Molly in that position, even if she didn't know it.

'Hmm, sure, ok.' John sounded doubtful. 'I mean Molly's great and she deserves a bit of happiness...

'She does. And she has Tom.'

'Yeah, she does.'

Shifting under John's perceptive gaze, Greg knew he hadn't convinced him. But he couldn't tell him. Looking away, the advancing figure of their friend caught his eye. Nodding at Sherlock's approach, he turned from John, glad for the interruption.

'This shop does not have what we require in the way of suits. I suggest we go elsewhere.'

Tapping his watch, John shook his head. 'Not at this time of the day, Sherlock. There won't be anything left open.'

Seeing a rather now furious looking manager staring at them, Greg figured a swift exit was in order. 'Tell you what, how 'bout a pint?'

'Pub?' John looked quite pleased at the idea as they pushed the door of the shop open.

'Pub.' Greg nodded.

Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh. 'Fine. Pub. Just don't expect me to indulge in banter about football or whatever.'

Heaven forbid, thought Greg with a smile.

* * *

><p>Just one cigarette. He was easing himself off them slowly. As the lighter flame caught the tobacco, Greg breathed in. Leaning back against the outside wall of the pub, he felt the cold January air bite at his cheeks. The smoke rushed into his lungs and his body grasped at the nicotine. His first one in a week. He wasn't doing too badly. He'd try and go without one next week; if only to stop Molly frowning at him again. She'd caught the smell on him the other week as he popped into Barts to pick up the scans.<p>

His phone vibrated against his chest. Digging it out of his coat pocket, he smiled. Think of a wonderful woman and she texts you.

_Got those Higson results done for you, if you're popping by on Monday. M_

_Will do. Thanks, you're a star. G_

_No problem. How's the suit shopping? M_

_No suits. But three pints and several deductions about footballers. G_

'I approve.'

Suddenly Sherlock's voice sounded at his shoulder, making Greg jump. What the hell? How long had he been standing there?

'Sherlock! Geez, you don't sneak up on people like.. what d'you mean, you approve?'

Shit, had he been reading the texts over his shoulder? Quickly shoving his mobile back inside his coat, he flicked ash off the end of the cigarette.

'You and Molly.'

'We're friends.' Greg snapped back at him.

Of course, Sherlock would've noticed. Though why had it taken him so long to say anything?

'Give it time. It'll sort itself out. Now, I have to go and um, see someone.' Flipping the collar of his coat up. 'Tell John I'll see him tomorrow, at Baker Street. Table plans to organise.'

And he was gone. Greg stubbed the half smoked cigarette out on the ashtray. What he didn't need was Sherlock being mysterious and enigmatic and.. well, just being Sherlock.

_It'll sort itself out._

Shaking his head, he pushed the door open, making his way back into the loud, crowded pub. Sherlock was wrong. Greg and Molly were friends and she was marrying Tom. There was nothing to sort out.

* * *

><p><strong>If Sally and now John and Mary have noticed, of course Sherlock would have figured it out. What's Greg to do? And I know that Molly would have put the brain away in cold storage and not leave a fresh body part out on the lab table but I loved Greg's reaction in The Sign of Three - 'Is that a brain?' - so I couldn't help taking a slight liberty for the story. Thank you for your reviews, favourites and follows - it's very encouraging! Many thanks for reading.<strong>


	6. (in the act)

'Sorry.'

He stared ahead of him, out the car window. Watching the retreating backs of the two constables, Greg counted slowly to twenty.

'...it's ok.'

She was definitely pissed off with him; that cold edge had come into her voice. And she was right to be angry. He was completely in the wrong, opening the car door on her.

'I shouldn't have done it.'

'No.' Sally adjusted her seatbelt. 'You shouldn't have.'

'Sorry.'

He heard her intake of breath and knew he was for it. Coming from his DS, he didn't mind. He deserved it.

'Don't ever do that again, Greg. I know you're angry and pissed off; so am I, ok... just don't do it again.' She paused, looking over a him, the anger gone from her face. 'Seriously, how do you plan on catching them at it? They're several steps ahead of us every time.'

'Like you said, we're not going to give up.'

Greg saw the faint smile cross her face. She was with him; together, he knew him and Sally could crack it, they just had to keep going. They would catch the Waters family in the act and they would nail them.

Shaking her head, she opened her bag, and pulled the bulging case file out. 'So, what are we looking for?'

Starting up the engine, Greg pulled out in the traffic flow, his mind already back to work. There had to be something that could be exploited, a weak spot that they could get into.

'Something we can beat them at.'

Sally huffed loudly. 'Not keeping it simple then, are you.'

* * *

><p>He'd forgotten about them. As he sat down at his desk, he saw them in his tray where he'd left them before dashing off to court.<p>

It'd seemed like a good idea at the time. While stopping off to get the morning coffees, he'd passed the flower stall and found that he couldn't resist; he'd thought how nice the daffodils would look on her desk, something to brighten her office.

'Sally, can you give me five minutes? Need to make a phone call.'

Digging out his mobile, Greg turned away as she stacked all the Waters case files on his desk. He caught her quizzical look from the corner of his eye.

'Um, sure. Did you...?'

Hearing her pause as he shook his head, he didn't look up. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it.

'No problem. I'll go see if Frank's got anything on that encryption.'

'Thanks.'

Hearing the door close, Greg looked up. Through the half-frosted glass he watched his sergeant walk across the office, towards the lifts. She knew. That's why she hadn't pushed him on it. Sally knew something was up.

He tapped his mobile against the desk, staring at the flowers. The more he thought about it, the more they didn't seem like such a good idea. And the angrier he got with himself.

What John and Sherlock'd said still played on his mind. He hadn't been careful enough in concealing how he felt; he'd given too much away. If his friends had figured it out, then who else knew? And how long before it got back to Molly?

The necklace. Had they worked that as well? Sherlock would have; he'd have deduce it straight away. As soon as Molly had walked into John and Mary's front room, Greg's eyes had found hers and he'd smiled. Sherlock had been sitting opposite him; he would have seen and known.

Bloody hell.

He'd been so stupid. Why had he done it? He was in love with her, yes, but he was also a grown man who should know better. Better than to make his feelings so obvious. And what if Molly knew? The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

Idiot.

Picking up the blooms, Greg stared at them. Yellow was just the right colour for her - bright, happy, cheerful. But he couldn't give her the flowers, even if it was just a friendly gesture. It wasn't right.

Turning in his chair, he let the daffodils drop from his hand into the bin, the clunk as they hit the bottom echoing around his small office. Professional, that's what he had to be. Anything to do with work, with Barts, he knew he had to keep it professional.

Swivelling the chair back around, he picked up his phone. Without realising it, he'd automatically opened up her messages.

_You going to Sherlock's tomorrow night? M_

Was he? He still hadn't made up his mind. It'd just be their small group, spending time together, catching up. But maybe it wasn't a good idea. He hadn't seen or spoken to John or Sherlock since the suit shopping expedition. And he really didn't want to be wondering what they were thinking, or having to be wary of how he was around Molly.

Bollocks.

Letting his head drop down onto his desk, Greg closed his eyes. His mind, and his heart, was tying itself up in knots. He didn't want to not see her but he knew what happened each time he did. He could try to be professional at Barts; but outside of work?

One thing at a time.

* * *

><p><strong>Between his job and his love life, Greg's having a tough time of it. A quick short snippet of a chapter, indulging my curiosity about how long before Greg would apologise to Sally for doing something so unlike him. And a little more angst over what he should and shouldn't do. Not sure yet how much better it'll get for him before the wedding - working on the next chapter right now! Many thanks for reading.<strong>


	7. here and now

Was it ok?

Catching himself in the full length mirror inside the wardrobe door, Greg paused. The new jeans looked decent enough, not too casual. Good enough for dinner out? Possibly. As he rubbed his hand over his hair, trying to get it to sit flat, his phone beeped.

_See you tonight? M_

Had Molly not believed him? Well, he couldn't blame her. It was his own fault, but he couldn't think of how else to do it. While work had been intense over the past couple of months - he'd turned down nights out at the pub, lunch offers, coffee breaks - he'd also used it as an excuse to avoid her. Not good, he knew that. Whenever he had to visit Barts, to collect reports or examine bodies, he found himself wary and on guard. Professionally, he was managing. Socially? After one awkward evening at Sherlock's over drinks, Cluedo and wedding plans, he'd been avoiding it.

But tonight was about John and Mary; a thank you dinner for their friends in the run up to the wedding. He wanted to be there for them. Which meant being with Molly.

_Yes, definitely. G _

_Lovely. See you there. M_

* * *

><p>He wasn't quite sure how it happened. Probably just getting lost in the moment. Good company, good food, candlelight, another bottle of wine. And the feel of her there next to him. Smiling, laughing, their arms brushing. It got away from him; he hadn't intended any of it.<p>

Molly looked wonderful. He saw her almost as soon as he'd walked into the restaurant. Stood at the bar with Sherlock, Mrs Hudson, and John and Mary, in a gorgeous dress he'd not seen before. A stunning dark blue colour, falling gently from her shoulders, floating across her chest, leaving her arms bare. He noticed that it ended just above her knees. And that Molly had nice legs.

Holding out the chair for her as they were shown to their table, Greg winked at the teasing note in her voice - _'Thank you. Very chivalrous of you, Inspector.'_ Catching the light of the candles as she sat down, the silver bird nestled just below her throat. Seeing her wearing it made his heart feel lighter. It did look beautiful on her; he definitely did not regret giving it to her.

They just sort of fell into talking as the meal went on; chatting happily over their food, taking turns to top up each other's wine glass. Molly turned her body towards him, resting her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand, smiling. Greg placed his arm across the back of her chair, feeling her hair brush against it whenever she leaned back.

As the waitress brought out their puddings - rich chocolate brownie for Molly, sticky toffee pudding for Greg - he knew that he had missed this, missed being with her among friends, relaxed, enjoying themselves. Her bright eyes and that beautiful smile directed at him. Why had he stayed away from her?

* * *

><p>'Do you mind if we walk for a bit? Along the river, only for a little way. I don't feel like going home just yet.'<p>

As John and Mary's cab pulled away from the kerb, Greg felt Molly's hand on his arm. Under the streetlight he could see her smile hopefully. How could he resist. He didn't feel like going home yet either; he was enjoying being there with her.

'Sure.'

As they headed back towards the river front, Greg felt her arm wrap around his; a friendly, casual gesture but he liked it. Having her close, touching him, felt good. Strolling along, a comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the sound of passing river boats, of the footsteps of other people out late. As St Pauls came into view, he felt Molly pause beside him, her arm squeezing his.

'Isn't it beautiful?' She moved to lean against the railing, letting his arm go. 'I pass it on the bus into work every day but I never really look at.'

Joining her, he had to admit it was a rather impressive sight, Lit up against the night, the cathedral's dome dominated the skyline. As they stood side by side, he felt her move closer to him, her arm resting against his. And the warmth from her touch raced up his arm, straight to his heart.

'I've had a lovely time tonight, Greg.'

'Me, too.'

'I've missed seeing you. I mean, I know I see you at Barts now and then, but, you know, outside of work. Away from the bodies and the paperwork.' She paused and he felt her fingers touch his arm. 'I don't want us to stop being friends, because of... because of me and Tom.'

'We're still friends, Molly. That won't change because you're marrying him.'

'Hmm, whenever that'll be.'

If Greg hadn't been right next to her, close enough that their arms touched, he wouldn't have heard it. The catch in her voice, the hesitation at the thought of her own, date-not-yet-set wedding.

'You don't sound convinced it'll happen.'

He meant it in a gentle, light hearted way, but he could feel it hang in the air between them. Molly brought her chin down to rest on her arms, staring down into the Thames as it lapped at the wall below them.

'Sometimes I wonder if it will.' She spoke quietly, her words directed at the river.

She was still having doubts? They hadn't talked about it since that conversation on New Year's Eve. He'd just assumed she was ok because she hadn't brought the subject up again.

'Molly... I know it's none of my business, please feel free to tell me to sod off, but you don't seem happy about it. Are you still having doubts, about marrying Tom?'

As she looked up at him, he placed his hand over hers, and Molly turned so they were facing each other. He expected a rebuttal, he expected her to deny it and tell him that she was happy and her and Tom were fine. Anything other than what did happen.

With the light falling across her face softly, Molly stared at him, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek. He held his breath as he felt the heat, the spark that raced through his body.

'I have had one or two.' Her hand stayed on his cheek, her finger tracing along his cheekbone. 'I know I shouldn't but I do.'

They looked at each other. Her eyes held his, searching his face. She must see, she must know, Greg thought as he found he couldn't look away from her beautiful eyes.

Perhaps if he hadn't spent the last few hours by her side, listening, watching, taking in everything about her - her gorgeous loose long hair spilling over her shoulders, the light, fresh smell of her perfume, her bare arms as she slipped her cardigan off - then he might have been ok. But every sense was filled with her. And his mind, his heart, could think only of Molly Hooper. Bringing her hand up to his lips he placed a gentle, slow kiss on her fingers. The feel of her skin against his lips, the squeeze she gave his hand, and he felt the jolt. In that moment, those few seconds, he thought that maybe it could have been possible.

But it wasn't. Greg let go of her hand, his heart thudding against his chest.

'Are you happy, Molly?'

'I am.'

What did that mean? Happy with Tom? Or happy right there and then, standing with him?

If there ever was the chance to kiss her, properly, it was then. Standing under the string of lights hung between the lamp posts, the lit-up skyline behind her, it seemed like just the right place. Romantic and quiet. London always looked beautiful at night, when you couldn't see the grubbiness under the darkness, just the lights and the stars.

Greg wanted to. Had he not thought about this often enough? He knew he was putting his arm around her waist, and gently placing his hand under her chin. Molly was stroking his jaw, her soft fingers sending a shiver down his spine. They looked at each other; he took in her face - how her eye lashes brushed against her cheeks when she blinked, the little tendrils of hair loose across her forehead, the curve of her lips as she smiled. There she was.

And then reality crashed back into his brain as her engagement ring caught the light.

Shit. What was he doing?

He had Molly tucked into his arm. It was wonderful and completely wrong. He felt his stomach drop, and his mind clear as he realised. What the hell was he doing?

Reluctantly he let his arm drop from her waist. 'Listen, I, um.. I should be getting back home.' Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

Molly blinked, as though she had suddenly noticed how close they were. Her eyes flicked away, her hand quickly left his cheek.

And they stood there, the small distance between them suddenly feeling like a huge gap. With an awkward silence filling it. How close had he come to kissing her? Was Molly wishing it had happened, as much as Greg was right then? He had no idea. She was avoiding looking at him, fiddling with her hair, pulling her cardigan closer around her. He'd made her uncomfortable.

Idiot.

Was he completely incapable of keeping his feelings to himself? What had he done?

'Come on.' He crooked his elbow, offering his arm to her. 'Let's find you a cab.'

* * *

><p><em>Morning. Sorry for what happened last night. I shouldn't have done it. G<em>

_It's ok. M_

_It isn't. It wasn't right. Forgive me. G_

Slowly pouring his second coffee of the morning, Greg was still berating himself. Seriously, not the thing to have done. He'd spent most of the night awake, going over it in his mind. He'd been in the wrong - kissing her hand, putting his arm around her waist.

As he padded across the kitchen floor in his bare feet, he felt mortified at how close he came to pulling Molly against him and kissing her properly. He'd let the evening go to his head, he'd let his guard down and taken advantage. He should never have done it. Opening the door out into the garden, the cool morning air against his face snapped him awake. He stepped out onto the patio, relishing the caffeine hit as he took a sip.

_Nothing to forgive. You didn't do anything wrong. M _

But he had. Completely the wrong thing.

_I did, Molly. I'm really sorry. G_

_We're friends. It's ok. Don't worry about it. M_

But he was worrying about it. Because Molly must have figured it out. Friends didn't put their arms around you and kiss your hand. They didn't stare into your eyes, unable to look away. He didn't have to worry about someone letting slip how he felt about her; he'd managed to do that all by himself. And it meant everything changed. How could it not?

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry! I gave Greg a little happiness and then snatched it away from him. Next chapter, the wedding. Many thanks for reading!<strong>


	8. desire

Two dances. That was all he managed before catching a glimpse of Molly with Tom. Suddenly it felt too stuffy and hot inside. Making his excuses to Mary's friend, he pushed his way through the dancers, heading for the door.

Fresh air. As he stepped outside into the cool May evening, Greg paused, taking in a deep lungful. Closing his eyes, he pulled his thoughts back together. Yes, the woman he was in love with was marrying another man, and he just had to deal with it.

Without realising, he'd wandered over to the sundial, where they'd stood and chatted earlier that day. Where Molly had smiled brightly at his wish for an uneventful, straight forward best man speech. Resting his back against it, he pulled out the cigarette packet from his trouser pocket. And her words came back to him - _You haven't brought them with you, have you?_ Smiling, feeling a little guilty, he put the packet back. For her, he could resist.

As he turned and strolled towards the lawn, he saw it. Even in the weak moonlight, the beautiful yellow dress stood out, like a faint light in the darkness. Across the other side, Greg saw her. Alone. He watched her walk and then stop by the far wall. Just her, no Tom.

Something was wrong. He felt it. He didn't know why, just a sudden feeling he got as he looked at her.

Crossing the lawn, he made his way towards her. As he got closer, he could see her leaning on the wall, staring up into the night sky. When his footsteps crunched on the gravel near her, Molly quickly whipped her head around, startled.

'Sorry.' Greg stopped a few metres from her, giving her some space. 'I saw you walking over here. You ok?'

It was too dark to see her expression, but she seemed upset.

Hugging her arms to her chest, she nodded. 'I'm ok.'

He heard the thickness in her voice. She'd been crying. What had happened?

'Molly, what's wrong?'

Moving closer, Greg stopped a few steps away from her. He kept his hands in his pockets, resisting the desire to touch her.

Shaking her head, she tried to smile. 'No, I'm fine. It's ok. I just...' She turned away.

Two hesitant steps brought him to her side; he leaned his arms on top of the rough stone. Molly was looking back across to the building and its sound of muffled music and drunk guests. They were far enough away, in the dark, that no one would notice them.

'Greg, I've done something that I... I don't know how to change.'

'Do you want to change it?'

Goosebumps covered her arms. She was cold; she'd come out without her cardigan. Greg slipped his jacket off, settling it on her shoulders, cocooning her. Molly's hands reached up to take hold of the lapels, pulling it further around her. Her eyes didn't meet his.

'I do. But...' She took hand from under his jacket. Holding it out, her engagement ring between them, she stared at it. 'I thought it was what I wanted.'

'And now?'

As she slowly turned her face up to his, the moonlight gently touching it, Greg felt his heart stop. How he wanted to just run his fingers across her cheek, to feel her skin beneath them, to bring his lips down to hers. They stood there, staring, neither of them looking away.

No. He shouldn't be doing that. Pulling against the desire in his heart, he turned away. Greg ran his hands over his face. Was this going to keep happening? Could he not put his feelings for her aside, keep them locked away? He had to; he had no intention of hurting her.

'You don't want to marry Tom?'

Pushing away the lightness that snuck into his heart, he looked at her. And was drawn back into her eyes.

'No, I don't.' Molly shook her head.

'What happened?'

Taking a shaky breath, rubbing her fingers across her eyes. 'I've realised that... that I said yes for the wrong reason. I wanted to prove I was over Sherlock.'

'Why?'

'Because...' Molly drew in a long breath. 'Because I was the ridiculous, lovesick woman who let Sherlock Holmes use her and be horrible to her. Because that's how I saw myself, how everyone else would see me.'

'So you went out with Tom? ...sorry.'

No, he didn't like Tom. Partly because he was with Molly, but mostly because he seemed rather, well, boring.

'Clear proof, if it was needed, that I was far from being over Sherlock. I mean, for god sake, he disappears for two years and I go out with his doppelganger.' The anger in her voice surprised him. 'I didn't move on. I just wanted to prove everyone wrong. I got stuck on the idea that they were all thinking what a fool I was over him and I.. I..'

'To hell with what anyone else thinks,' Greg said, covering her hand with his.

Molly might have been in love with Sherlock, but that did not make her a fool. Never. She cared about a man who'd jumped off a roof to save the lives of his friends; a man who claimed he didn't have friends.

A faint smile crossed her lips as she squeezed his hand.

'Maybe it was because I knew, I knew he was alive and I was trying to pretend and... oh, I don't know, I guess that was my way of keeping up the lie. If Sherlock Holmes was really dead then the stupid, love sick Molly Hooper would mourn him and move on.'

'One thing you could never be is stupid.'

Whatever he had promised to himself, the anger and sadness she was feeling made his heart, his mind, his body hurt. He didn't care who saw them or what any of them would say; he reached out and wrapped his arms around the petite pathologist. Feeling her fingers come to rest on his chest, her head against his shoulder. His heart was beating fast under her hands. But he didn't care. What mattered was Molly; whether she was still in love with Sherlock or not.

'I missed him.' Her voice was quiet against his shoulder. 'The whole thing was awful... watching him fall past the window, seeing him when they wheeled the stretcher in... he looked dead, all that blood, he..

She shivered and Greg felt it through his whole body. He knew it'd affected her, but hearing her talk about it broke his heart. God, he loved this brave, tough woman. Hearing the tiny shake in her voice that he knew she was trying to hide, he pulled her tighter and kissed her head. He felt her body soften and relax against his.

'You are incredible. I know I said it before, but bloody hell Molly, you are.'

'Thank you,' she whispered into his shirt.

'Any time.'

Somewhere in the background, he could hear the music playing. But right then, all he was concentrating on was her, in his arms. And her hands slipping down his chest and around his waist.

'I'm not in love with him.'

'Who, Sherlock or Tom?'

'Both.'

Oh. He felt the jolt in his stomach at her words.

'Have you told Tom?'

'No.' She pulled back a little, tipping her head up to meet his eyes. 'How stupid is that.'

'Not stupid at all.'

Running his hand over her hair, letting it come to rest against her cheek, their faces so close. And she wasn't looking away. The slightest sliver of possibility stole into his heart.

Don't make it more than it is.

Which he felt the irony of, considering they had their arms around each other, out in the dark, under the spring moonlight.

'I've used Tom. I don't want to hurt him but I can't stay with him.'

She tucked her head back against his shoulder. Greg pressed his cheek to her forehead. He wasn't having much luck slowing down the hammering of his heart; she must have noticed that.

'Do you think he knows?'

'Yes.' There was no hesitation in her answer. 'After today, he must've figured it out.'

'After today?'

Greg pulled back; Molly looked up at the sudden movement. They stood there, arms still around each other. Did she..?

'After seeing us together, he's bound to have figured it out.'

What? He held down the feeling that grabbed him, squashing it back into his stomach. S_eeing us together?_

Her hand reached up to touch his face. Just like she'd done after that dinner, as they'd stood by the river, the London skyline behind them. He closed his eyes, her touch making him hold his breath.

'Molly?'

'I never said anything, not by the river, not on New Year's Eve, because I'm scared that... that I've got it wrong again.'

'Got what wrong again?'

'I thought I was in love with Sherlock, and then with Tom. Having been wrong about them, I'm scared that I've done it again.'

He felt her moving, standing up on her toes to bring their faces closer. He couldn't speak. Because the thought, the feeling was taking over. Was Molly Hooper telling him that...

'I keep thinking that maybe I've got it wrong about you.'

Bloody hell. His heart stopped, restarted and he thought it would hammer its way straight out of his chest. This time, Greg definitely didn't care who saw them. Hand resting softly on her neck, he brought his lips down towards hers.

'No, Molly,' he whispered against her cheek. 'You're not wrong.'

Her hands were making their way up his chest, to wrap themselves around his neck. 'Good.' And she placed a wonderful ghost of a kiss on his lips.

* * *

><p><strong>And a bit more happiness for Greg, to make up for the last chapter. Though there are consequences, as there always are. Chapter 9 in progress! many thanks for reading.<strong>


	9. soft

_I've told him. It's over. Tom's left, gone back to his flat. M_

_You ok? G _

_I will be. Are you stopping by tomorrow for the Baxter results? M_

_If that's ok? G_

_Definitely ok. M _

_Shall I bring hot chocolate? G_

_Yes please. Thank you. M_

_You'll be ok tonight? G_

_Yes. Promise. M_

_See you tomorrow. Take care. G_

_You too. M_

* * *

><p>Nudging the lab door open with his shoulder, Greg looked around. No Molly. Placing the cups on the table - her hot chocolate, his coffee - he plonked himself down onto a stool. She'd be back along soon enough. He'd said he'd be there about 2, so he was only a little early.<p>

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he took out the small white box. He'd done it again - unable to resist thinking of her. Well, they'd looked so gorgeous in the shop window and it was only one little box. He was sure she'd like them. Well, he hoped she would. And that she'd be happy to see him. Would she? Or did she need more time to herself? Molly had said it was ok to come by the lab. She'd have let him know if it wasn't.

Calm down.

Pushing the box around on the table, tapping his finger against it, he breathed slowly, closing his eyes. Even with everything that had happened, Greg still felt nervous.

His mind wandered back to the wedding. It'd only been two days ago. Two days since Molly told him how she felt. His body remembered the feel of her against him, the gentle touch of her hair on his face, the softness of her lips on his. He remembered how much he'd wanted to kiss her as her small frame pressed into him. And he also remembered, vividly, the look Tom gave him as they stepped back inside. Had it been obvious? Had he figured it out?

'Hey.'

The soft voice at his ear made him jump. Turning, he was caught by the sight of Molly Hooper looking back at him, smiling, her deep brown eyes holding his. And it made his heart stop. She was so lovely. Standing up, Greg reached out and slipped his arms gently around her shoulders. Molly stepped into the hug, leaning against him. For several wonderful minutes they stayed like that.

'How are you?' Pulling back, he let his fingers rest on her shoulder, gently caressing her neck.

'Getting there.' And she placed a light kiss on his cheek. 'I think I'm going to feel rotten about it for a little while yet.'

'Of course you will. But you were honest with him, Molly.'

'I guess. But... but not straight away though. I did to Tom what your wife did to you.'

'No.' Letting his hand lightly touch her cheek, looking into her beautiful brown eyes. 'You didn't cheat on him.'

'Greg, we kissed!' She quickly turned away from him. 'At the wedding we kissed and hugged and that's cheating.'

'Up to a point, maybe. But you didn't do anything wrong, just fell out of love with him...'

'And didn't tell him sooner, kept pretending, using him.'

'Molly.' Stepping up behind her, he put his hands softly on her shoulders. 'Don't do this to yourself. You made a mistake; we all do. You said yes to him because you thought you loved him. You broke it off when you realised you didn't.'

As her face turned and her eyes looked into his, Greg could see tears starting to form. Oh.

'Hey.' He wiped the single tear from her cheek. 'It's done now.'

'I know. I just feel... I hadn't meant to do it to him. I told him that I did care about him, but I didn't love him. He wasn't angry, I don't think. More upset and hurt.' Molly paused, biting her lip. 'He knew. Tom said he saw the way we looked at each other over dinner... I feel so awful about it. I should've said something before.'

Greg leaned forward, placing a slow, tender kiss on her forehead. It hurt to see her tying herself up in knots.

'Maybe, maybe not. But you did the right thing by him. That's who you are, a good person.'

'I don't feel like a good person right now. I should've broken it off earlier, when... when I started thinking about you and how much I liked you and how I'd rather be with you and how I looked forward to seeing you. And when I thought about how I'd rather wake up in the morning and see you there next to me..'

His heart jumped as she stumbled, embarrassed, over her confession. And again at how sexy Molly looked as the tiny blush crept across her cheeks.

'.. I mean... not that I don't want to.. I would love to, eventually.. I just, right now..'

And Greg knew what she meant. If she wasn't ready for the full on relationship then he was more than happy to take it at her pace. As much as he had wanted to just lift her up off the ground and carry her back to his room when she'd kissed him at the wedding, he'd pushed all those kind of thoughts firmly away; it could all wait.

Because this was about Molly, not him. However long she needed to deal with her broken engagement, she could have. Greg was just happy, ecstatic, that she felt the same. And that there was no need to conceal his feelings, from her or from anyone.

'We can do this properly, if you want,' he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

'Properly?'

'Yeah, you know, me ask you out on a first date, bring you flowers, hold hands, kiss you goodnight, all that kind of stuff.'

Molly smiled. 'What, like a bit of old fashioned wooing?'

'Yeah, lots of wooing.' He definitely liked the sound of that.

Hesitating, she reached her fingers up to touch his lips. 'I'd like that.'

Leaving a light kiss on her fingertips, he turned back to the lab table. Picking up the small white box, he held it out to her. 'Then may I start with these?'

Giving him a quizzical look, Molly took the box and released the white ribbon. And her quiet laugh as she looked inside made him smile. She did like them.

'Chocolate truffles. Oh Greg.' Her hand found its way into his. 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome. Any time.'

* * *

><p><strong>The fluff won out! I had intended to add a little more angst to this final chapter but I couldn't resist the fluff. While Molly's upset and anxious about what she did, Greg's there to help her through it, and to keep kissing her! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, favouriting and following this story. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.<strong>


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